and just hold a smile
by Cranestep
Summary: Crookedstar's Promise, but in human form. AU, human!Crookedstar fic, CrookedxWillow, and a little bit different from the book, but follows the same major plot line. In multiple parts!


**Title: **and just hold a smile (part one)

**Rating: **T in later chapters; deals with normal adult problems later on.

**Characters/Pairings: **Crookedstar, Mapleshade, Oakheart, Rainflower, Shellheart, Brambleberry, Willowbreeze, Bluestar, others; Rainflower/Shellheart, Crookedstar/Willowbreeze, Bluestar/Oakheart (most of these are in later parts).

**Disclaimer: **Title is from "Never Say Never" by The Fray, I don't own Warriors.

**Summary: **Crookedstar's Promise, but in human form.

**Authors Note: **Holy crap, part one of this monster is finally done! Everyone has been waiting for this for God knows how long, and I'm happy I finally gave you all what I said I would! This is just part one, but this was extremely fun to write :D I believe that the names are all quite obvious as to who they are, but just message me if you need any help with who they are! (Please keep in mind that this is a little AU; this is more so in later chapters, but it does reach AU proportions.)

**Words: **~8,875 (this part)

* * *

**.and just hold a smile (part: 1).**

_Sometimes Cory wonders how much his life would've changed (would've been _better_) if he and Oliver had just listened to their mother and stuck to her side that fateful day._

_Even though he knew it'd been his jaw's fault for the rift to grow between he and his mother, like a whitewater river that he just couldn't cross, even if he truly wanted to, he still understood that Regan Sampson had never been an overly loving woman. There had always been that presence of judgment in her gaze whenever he and Oliver had failed to do a simple task, she had always repeated her plans for the twins future even if, as Cory grew, he didn't agree with them._

_Truth to be told, he didn't want to do as his mother advised; go to college for a _minimum_ of six years, get a high paying and respectable job, and then settle down and get a wife and have a few children. As he grew into his injury, learning how to deal with it and just move on, his mother had to be the one to screw it all up; she had to give him small glares whenever she thought he wasn't looking, had to ignore him more and more and cause the formerly respectable teenager to do anything to gain her attention. She just _had_ to ruin _everything_._

_Cory guesses that his life just really wasn't meant to be easy and happy (ever since that ghost came into his life he knew this)._

…

His family consisted of him, his older (by two minutes) twin brother Oliver, his mother, and his father. Pretty much an "American Apple Pie family" as his mother would say to describe them (much to his father's chagrin _"We're in England, dear, _not _America."_), Cory had never had a reason to dislike his home life.

Sure, there would be moments, stuck in between a reprimanding comment by his mother and a too soft comforting from his father that Cory would begin to question what even drew his parents together, why they, two completely different personality types, would even _try._ His mother's personality traits were best described as domineering, somewhat shrewd, and controlling, whilst his father was more compassionate, caring, and kind than anything, reserving a smile for anyone and being the happiest in the room, even if the occasion didn't call for it.

But even if his parents both confused and partially irritated him, Cory was, like he said, content with his small family. He and his brother were almost inseparable, only told apart by Oliver's more reddish-tinted brown hair, his amber-colored eyes, and the extensive freckles that adorned his slightly tan skin (their mother was part Hispanic; her skin, although not dark enough to be considered brown, was light golden-brown at best). They were like two peas in a pod, their father would say gently, smiling and ruffling their hair.

A two story house, that sit in a cozy, modern neighborhood, with a small river in the backyard and woods behind that, nothing in Cory's life for the first six and a half years of it was wrong; he had good parents, other children in the neighborhood to play with, and a amazing brother. His father had secured his position as the police deputy of Liverpool, his mother taking on being a house mother, driving them to and from school and being home when they were sick.

Even if it was an American term, Cory really did believe his mother when she said that they had an American Apple Pie Family.

…

Cory didn't really believe in ghosts, to be honest.

He understood that there could be a heaven and a hell, separating the good and the evil, but why would there be ghosts? Wouldn't the spirits have just floated on to their rightful place in the afterlife? What would be important enough for them to stay here?

These questions, even years into his adulthood, were never answered.

…

The one thing that he had never forgotten about his father was his love for classic rock, American bands_._

His love and appreciation was a bit odd, Cory had thought one morning, sitting in the backseat of the cop car, Oliver at his right and the branches of the trees whipping past the tinted windows. His father usually showed disdain for America, at times, due to his belief that they thought they were better than they actually were.

But it never seemed to matter to the tall man, who turned up the radio whenever a song with low bass notes and a small drum beat, but always would come on, throwing his twin sons a wink and repeating: "Classical rock will never get old, kids." before humming along to the song.

…

He and Oliver were close in their early years.

Though his twin brother had always held Cory's best interests at heart, the thought of _he's doing this for himself too _never leaves his mind. Oliver had always had that tinge of selfishness in him, something that Cory looked past always because didn't they all?

But as they grew up, after that _one, stupid _accident happened, it was blatantly obvious to him that Oliver is, and would always be, everyone's favorite.

It was present in everything he was and Cory was not: that natural aptitude for sports, his charm, how easily jokes and kindness came to him, the fact that he was mommies favorite...it was always there.

Cory just had to get hurt to really see it.

…

Every Saturday morning, his mother would take he and Oliver to the grocery store with her as she ran out to get weekly supplies.

Even if this didn't seem like such a big or happy deal, it was to the pair of them: their mother, who usually wasn't the most open to receiving surprise hugs, who didn't enjoy getting splashed whenever they jumped into the river – she used this as one of the ways to show them that yes, she loved them more than anything else in the world. That she'd always treasure them no matter what happened to them.

Going out to the grocery store on a Saturday morning may seem like a dumb way of showing love, but to Cory, it was a time he reveled in.

He really misses that feeling now.

…

The first time he hears the word 'divorce', he is four years old and has no idea why his parents are screaming at each other.

They're fighting over something, adult terms that Cory has heard before but still has no idea what they mean, and each quip from the other cuts deeper and deeper into the married couple: his mothers eyelid twitching just a tinge as his father brings up something about a cold personality, his father's gaze faltering when she brings up all of the hours he's taken up at his job and _is there something I should know about?_

But what stays in his memory, years later, is how frighteningly unusual it is.

It is his father who looks stricken, who looks like he's on the verge of hysterics and from throwing a plate across the room, and how unimaginably out of character it is for the normally calm and composed man, who stands at 6'4 and is being belittled by a 5'5 woman.

It's the first time he realizes how much words can affect someone.

(It isn't the last.)

…

When the accident happens, Cory doesn't expect it.

_Of course he didn't – how could he?_

It happens on a sunny Sunday afternoon; his parents had taken them out to one of the ports on the edges of Liverpool, his mother informing them on their way to the city that she was looking for a good deal on a couch that apparently "Would look just wonderful with the theme I want.". But that was Mother; she had a vision for everything, and almost nothing would stop her from getting that vision turned to a reality.

As soon as they got to the port, citizens of their moderately large city mingling about the shops and enjoying the sunny day, Cory had clung onto his mothers hand, while Oliver took his father's, his brothers yellow eyes wide with open curiosity and excitement at all the new places, the looming buildings and the new people.

As their mother turns to one of the stores, eyes widening and clapping her hands together in succession, he sees his brother lagging behind, being dragged by their father after their mother. Oliver's gaze rests on the horizon, where Cory can see denim-blue water underneath a pale blue sky.

The couch that holds their mother's 'vision' is a simplistic yet elegant cream-color, nothing special or futuristic – it has the arms, pillows, and cushions.

Cory decides that he really doesn't understand home decor.

It isn't until their parents are speaking to the store owner, bargaining deals, that Oliver tugs on his hand, staring at his twin brother with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"C'mon," he whispers, grabbing Cory's hand and beginning to tug him to the door, where the outside world awaits, unsupervised by their parents watchful eyes.

Cory plants his feet on the ground firmly, narrowing his eyes and pulling Oliver back. "_No. _Mom and Dad would kill us if we wandered off," he tells his twin, groaning in frustration as Oliver shots him a peeved look.

"It'll only be for a second!" Oliver whines, glancing over his brothers shoulder and then back into his eyes, frowning. "You're no fun."

He rolls his eyes. "I'd rather be no fun then being yelled at by Mom and Dad." He protests, smirking when his brothers gaze falters, clearly realizing that Cory has a valid point.

Oliver looks back, this time his gaze touched with a wry gleam. "Okay, whatever," he begins, giving his brother a gap toothed grin. "I guess you're too much of scaredy-cat to come anyway."

"I'm not!"

His brother just shrugs, a seemingly disinterested look casting on his face as he turns around. "I'm going to go look at the water – you shouldn't come if you're too scared to, though."

Cory looks back at his parents, who are clearly too enveloped in their discussion with the store owner to notice Oliver slipping out of the shop. He sighs, both annoyed and frightened for his brother, before following him, scowling as he grabs his hand to stop him.

"Alright, I'll come – but once we see the water, we've gotta come back. And we have to be quick, before they not-"

"I get it, Cory, I know." Oliver snaps with an eye roll.

Cory sighs, ignoring his brothers rude interjection, and resigning himself to watch the people walk past the pair, seemingly oblivious to the pair of six (_and a half_) year-olds without a parent or at least a teenager present. It seems a little lonely, he thinks as Oliver leads them closer and closer to the riverbank, where less people are seen. _No one even notices us._

Looking back on it, he thinks how strange and sad it is: that someone could've stopped him from going. Could've asked him and Oliver what they were doing by themselves.

_But no one did._

…

A dare.

A teasing comment.

Two stepping stones, both leading further and further away from the safety of the reeds.

No adults, children, teenagers near them.

That's all it took, really.

One second he's standing on the second stepping stone, about five feet away from Oliver, who watches his twin jump further and further away from him, all from the river bank. One second he's happy, pleased with himself because he went through with Oliver's dare (_"I _dare _you to go onto the stepping __stones, I mean, unless you're a chicken."_). He's glad that he was able to do one thing to prove that he's not meaningless, that he can follow through with this simple dare.

In reality, he wishes that he had spent that last second doing something more meaningful.

A bird flies out of the oak tree behind Oliver, startled by something in the bushes, something that neither of them quite knew, even now (but, now, Cory thinks he does.). Out of a spasm of fear, his foot slips. It slips, and his body jerks to the side, towards the water that seems dark and ominous to him in that moment, a blur of brownish-blue.

His entire body goes under in about .5 seconds, and the water is _so cold_, so much colder than he'd thought it'd be. The water is cold and brown and-

And then pain, sharp and blasting onto the side of his face, comes, and in that moment, he wishes his mother had been there. He wishes for soft words, murmured into his ear in the darkness, trying to lull him to sleep.

He can hear Oliver yelling from the surface, his brother's voice cracked and high pitched and just so unlike him that it scares Cory.

As soon as the daze wears off, when the white bubbles leave his vision and he's just floating in the murky water, crimson-colored water like tentacles, attempting to wrap around him, he can see the tops of the trees, blurry, like looking through opaque glass. He realizes how much pain is pulsing through his face in that moment, as he calms himself down just enough to try and think.

He begins to claw toward the surface in that moment, trying to rise up, but something tugs him back, like an invisible force that just _really _doesn't want him to survive. Realization hits him like a cold chill when he realizes it's a current that's dragging him backwards. He may only be six and a half, but he was always reminded by his mother about currents and to be careful for them; they'd drag he and Oliver down until they, well, drowned.

_I'm going to die-_

The need for fresh air has never been so crucial to him, and he feels as though his lungs are on _fire, _the desire to be able to take a puff of oxygen becoming the only goal right now.

Blotches of darkness line his vision, and he's beginning to find it hard to think or see, the pain in his chest and face becoming unbearable at this point. The light from the sky is becoming darker and darker, and smaller and smaller as he's tugged down into the water.

Before he closes his eyes, he thinks he can see a humanoid form; dark and ominous as it comes toward him. At first he thinks it's someone coming to rescue him, but then he realizes with fear that the shape is a shadow – no identifying features.

He hates how he's going to die in fear.

…

Cory doesn't really know how he survives, to be honest.

There's lights flashing, bright, every once and awhile, and he can hear disjointed voices, mumbling from somewhere far off. But the only thing he really cares about is the fact that he's _safe, _safe from the water and that strange figure.

It takes him a few minutes to realize he is in a hospital, if the potent smell of ammonia and the uncomfortable rubbing of a latex glove over his skin.

He strains himself - as a burning pinch goes into his wrist and hands are touching the side of his face, near his jaw - to try and hear his families voice, to see if he can decipher them over the beeping of a machine and the sound of unfamiliar voices shouting medical terms over his body.

Cory think he can hear his mother, once, and she sounds like she's crying, sobbing.

He realizes that he made her feel that way. That is _his _fault.

But he goes back to sleep, darkness covering his vision, before he can try and think more on the subject.

…

When he wakes up, after what seems like days, he is met with the morose face of his father, seated in a too-small chair that makes him appear larger than he was.

His tired yellow eyes meet Cory's, and a jovial gleam spreads in them. "You're awake," he states, voice an echo of joy, getting up out of his chair and coming to the side of the hospital bed. His fathers callused hand grabs his still-developing one, giving his son a weak smile.

Cory tries to say something, but his mouth feels weird, as if one side of it is clamped shut and only the right corner of his mouth feels like it may be working properly. Fear causes the bottom half of his body to turn stiff, as he brings a hand up to his face, touching the left side of his jaw.

It feels weird, bumpy and misshapen to the touch. But, surprisingly, he feels no pain on it; he's numb from medication and maybe whatever that burning thing they put in his wrist.

He looks to his father, who gives him a bleak stare back. The gray-haired man gives out a sigh, turning and grabbing the arm of the small chair and bringing to him, taking a seat in it once again.

"You broke your jaw," he states in an inscrutable tone. "The doctors couldn't do anything to set it back right."

The six year-old stares back, eyes wide and fearful. _How am I gonna eat? Can I talk? Does it look weird? _A million questions go through his mind, but he's to afraid to open his mouth to ask his father any of them.

_Where's Mom and Oliver?_

Suddenly, the doorknob to his room jiggles, and he feels a wave of hope, praying that his mother and brother will open the door, and he can finally see them again.

Disappointment follows as that door opens, but a woman about an inch shorter than his mother comes out, soft and gentle feminine features making him feel just a bit better. She's Caucasian, like his father, but with strange, long white hair with black splotches in them that, he'd think would look a little weird, but is kind of pretty.

"Good to see you're finally awake," she begins in a soft tone, as if speaking too loudly would startle or upset him. She crosses the room in a few slow strides, looking over and giving his father a small glance. When she turns back to him, the doctor's dark blue eyes are full of such warmth and care that he almost feels secure, as if he's back at home, not in this foreign place that's too clean and bright and without his mother and brother's presence.

Cory just stares up at her, watching as she checks the monitor beside him and then looks back into his face, a slightly doleful look in those dark blue eyes that remind him deeply of ocean water. The woman gives him another weak smile, before tossing a strand of that unusually colored hair behind a shoulder, and takes in a breath.

"You're going to be here for a while," she tells him, blinking. "My name is Dr. Berry. I'll be here if you need me, alright, sweetie?" Something about her voice makes Cory feel a bit better, the bubble of anxiety and confusion becoming just a bit smaller.

Dr. Berry gives him another smile, before looking toward his father. "Where's Mrs. Sampson and Oliver?" she asks, though not rude or unkindly. Cory snaps his gaze toward his father.

"She had to take Oliver home," he says in an uncomfortable voice, shifting in the hospital chair. "He stayed up all night and was too tired."

At that revelation, Cory smiles just a bit, once again relishing in how strange it feels to have only one side of his mouth working at the moment. _At least he stayed here, _he thinks.

He still wishes his mother were here, though.

…

The doctors continue to check his jaw as a day passes by, more injections of pain medicine given to him.

The medicine makes everything blurry and his head feels light after taking it, but it stops the pain so he can't really complain about it. Because of the medication, he's hardly coherent after that first day in the hospital; he keeps falling asleep as the doctors continue to fuss over him.

Oliver and his mother came to visit one day, his mother staring at his face with a look that made him uncomfortable, before she bent down, tears in her eyes and murmuring that she was so scared that she'd lose him. Oliver had been a blubbering mess, repeating about how sorry he was for daring him to go onto those stepping stones and that he should've listened to Cory when he told him not to leave their parents sides.

On the third day at the hospital, Oliver sleeping in the chair beside his bed and his parents outside, speaking to Dr. Berry and some other doctors, he thinks he hears shouting and crying – but, at the moment, he's at that point where he's almost asleep and too drugged up to know for certain.

"_Is there anything you can-" _His mothers voice, choked with agony.

"_The lower jaw is shattered-" _Dr. Berry, he thinks.

"_Regan, he'll be oka-" _His father, who sounds a mixture of stressed and upset.

"_Plastic surger-" _He can hear a plead in his mothers tone at that, like she's trying to get someone to see reason. Maybe she was, but it sounded too blurry and distorted for him to tell.

"_He's six years-old-" _His father again.

After that, his vision begins to become spotted with black, darkness and sleep lulling him away from the fight outside.

Before he goes under, he thinks he hears one statement from his mother, louder than the rest, sounding more angry than sad:

"_He doesn't look right!"_

…

He doesn't usually dream whenever he falls asleep.

But whenever he does, it's the same concept: he's in a house he's never seen before. It's old and ragged looking, moth-bitten curtains covering the cracked windows. His jaw is crooked in these dreams, and he brings up a hand to touch it – but every time the palm of his hand or his fingers come into contact with it, it feels like fire.

He doesn't like this house; it looks like something out of some sort of TV show or movie that his mother would never let him watch in a million years. It's scary.

But the part that frightens him the most, the thing that makes his skin crawl and causes him to back away, is the woman that continuously appears out of the corner of his eye; she stands there, deathly still, ragged and wild hair covering her face and dark like a shadow. But every time he turns to see her, she's gone.

The catch though is that these dreams feel so real.

…

Dr. Berry tells him after a week in the hospital that he's going to need physical therapy for a while, so he can work out his jaw well enough for it to be almost normal again.

He hasn't looked at his reflection in all this time, and he doesn't intend to.

It's something about the way that people who cross the open doorway look at him whenever they see his face, the way his mother is no longer open to kiss his cheek, instead opting on his forehead, and how Oliver attempts to laugh along with him as they watch their favorite shows, even though Cory can see him glancing at his face from the corner of his eye.

He realizes that he can't bear to see his reflection.

…

His mother and father tell him after a month and a half of healing that, tomorrow, he can go home.

School is a leering shadow in the distance, the prospect of going back and seeing all his friends and his teacher giving him the same, awestruck stare as everyone else a fearful thought. He can hardly face the other patients in the hospital, the other children who either have cancer or are crippled. But at least those stares are politely curious.

He can't handle the outside world. He's still just a baby.

…

When he piles up in the car, his mother carrying a large bag of all the medication that Cory will need to take in order to deal with the pain, Dr. Berry gives him a tight smile and tells him that she'll see him next week for his first physical therapy class.

He just nods at her, wincing as a tiny blossom of pain spreads underneath his ear. As he sits in the back of his mothers car, Oliver attempting to carry on a conversation, his mother delivers him another set of saddening news:

"Cory, honey," she begins, and Cory glances up at her, watching as she turns to look at him from the passenger seat. "You'll have to be held back a year at school." She says it so simply that he doesn't even realize how bad the news is at first.

He stares back at her, blinking and frowning. "Wha?" he asks, hating how grumbled and terrible his voice sounds now. Cory feels a small drip of drool running down from his jaw, and he paws at it quickly but gently, frowning and feeling more miserable and helpless than he did before.

His mother blinks, sighing impatiently. "You've missed a month and a half of school – the administrators said that because you've missed all that curriculum, you can't be expected to move on to the next grade yet." She continues, deep blue eyes separating from his pale green ones to look at his father, her gaze a silent _help me out here._

His father glances at the rear view mirror, finding his face and giving him a warm smile. "It's not your fault, son, I promise – it's for your own good."

_It doesn't _sound _like it's for my own good, _he thinks, tearing his eyes away from his fathers reflection and opting to look at his lap instead. Cory looks over at Oliver, watching as his brother glances at him only once, before looking back out the window a little too quickly.

He looks at the back of his mothers seat once again, his eyes widening in realization.

"Wha 'bout Oliver?" he asks, choosing to ignore his slurred voice and focusing on the way his mother flinches slightly, but not turning around (it's the first time this happens, but not the last.).

"Oliver is moving up to second grade next year," she states matter-of-factly.

He waits a few seconds – for a reassurance that it'll be alright, for a statement that she'll try and work something out with the administrators, something – but nothing follows her words except more uncomfortable silence.

…

When he gets home for the first time since his injury, one of the first things Cory notices is the cream-colored couch his mother had wanted that day sitting in the living room.

…

His father tells him that he needs to rest at home another two weeks before he can go back to school, something about Dr. Berry not wanting to put any strain on his jaw while it's still healing.

The next morning after that, when Oliver has been dropped off at school and his father has gone to work, he gets up out of bed, walking down the stairs and finding his mother, cleaning a greasy pan at the sink.

"Ma'?" he asks, crossing the dining room and walking into the room.

As if he has screamed out her name, his mother jolts, almost dropping the pan in the sink and looking down at Cory.

"Why are you up?" she asks after a few seconds, blinking and turning back to her cleaning. "You need to be resting."

Cory gulps, wiping away a line of drool and frowning (he's really starting to hate how weird and stiff his lips feel.), looking up at her. "I wa' to kno' if we cou' do someth' today."

(He also hates how his voice doesn't sound normal.)

She takes a very sharp intake of breath, her knuckles almost turning white as she grips the metal handle of the pan. Recomposing herself, his mother turns sharp blue eyes to him.

"We can't go out yet," she reminds him, a tight smile on her lips. "You need to rest."

He wants to say something else, but she continues to stare at him with that cold, frightening look until he finally turns around, padding back across the house and up the stairs, into his room.

He lays on the bed, tosses the covers over his body, and buries the uninjured side of his face into the soft pillow, hoping if he sleeps, he can wake up and this will all be some dumb nightmare.

…

He dreams of that scary, dark, empty house again for the first time since he left the hospital.

Cory feels fear as he hears footsteps from somewhere above him, soft at first, but like thunder after a few seconds, causing the roof to shake.

He doesn't see that woman, this time, in the corner of his eye, nor when he turns around.

(The dream still feels extremely real, though.)

…

It only takes one week in his home, alone with his mother for most of the day, for Cory to realize that she isn't happy with his injury.

Every time he tries to talk to her, she tells him to get some rest, not talking to him for the rest of the day.

It's incredibly lonely.

…

The first Saturday that he's home, after that fateful day, his mother takes Oliver to the grocery store.

When he practically runs down stairs, almost tripping over his feet, she immediately tells him that he can't go with him because he needs rest. Her gaze is not comforting or warm, only cold and sharp, not offering any care that she normally would have.

He watches the car peel away from the driveway, and it frightens him when he realizes that his mother has left an almost seven year-old alone for an hour.

...

He still hasn't looked at his reflection.

(He still _can't _look at his reflection.)

…

He and Oliver are playing with some of their toys in their room when they hear shouting coming from downstairs, their parents voices booming off of the walls and carrying to the second floor, and prompting Oliver to share a glance with him, before leading him over to the top of the stairs.

Cory watches over his twin's shoulder as his mother and father are fighting, his father's fists clenched, his mother's eyes narrowed and blazing in rage.

"You're neglecting him!" His father yells, his voice more enraged than Cory has ever heard it before. It's frightening and uncharacteristic, definitely not something he normally would've thought his father was even capable of before.

His mother's jaw clenches. "It's not my fault!" she screams back.

"_How _is child neglect not your fault? That is the stupidest excuse I have _ever _heard – and I'm a cop! I've dealt with idiots for almost a decade!"

She snorts. "Maybe that's the problem. Maybe since you spend so much time with your damn job, you're not around-"

"_Do not _pin the blame on me, Regan!"

"Maybe that's why the boys decided to leave our side! They were trying to get your attention since you _clearly _don't hold any regard for them-"

"How dare you even-"

Cory can't listen to it anymore, so he just soundlessly leaves his brother's side, walks to his room, and flops back down on his bed, wincing as pain explodes in his face.

…

Two days before he's to go back to school, Cory begins to do anything to gain his mothers favor.

He sneaks out into the backyard while she makes a phone call upstairs, and finds a small patch of his mothers favorite flowers – cuckoo flowers, to be exact – and picks out a handful, being careful not to damage the petals, and brushes them on his pant leg, as to clean them from dirt and ants.

When he goes back inside, his mother still upstairs, he puts them on the kitchen counter, near her purse so she's sure to see them.

Thirty minutes later, when she comes back down with an irritated scowl and slams the phone down on the counter, she takes in the flowers, and he sneaks back upstairs, feeling pleased with himself.

When he comes back downstairs after seeing the yellow bus that drops Oliver off from school stopping in it's usual place, he throws away the juice box he currently had, only to see the flowers laying at the bottom of the bin.

He holds back tears as he hugs his brother.

…

Physical therapy is boring, but Dr. Berry herself isn't so bad.

She at least doesn't look at him like he has two heads or something.

…

The next time his parents fight, his mother leaves the house and doesn't come back that night.

Or the next day.

All the calls his father tries to make out to her end in even more shouting, but at least Cory and Oliver know that she's okay.

His father is forced to drive him to school that day, trying to uplift his spirits by telling him that if anyone bothers him, he can just ask the teachers if he can go home early. Cory doesn't try to mention that his father probably couldn't take all that time off of work, just throws his arms around the muscular man and allows Oliver to lead him to their classroom.

When his mother comes back after three days out, she ignores everyone but Oliver.

…

To be perfectly honest, Cory prefers the staring of his classmates and teachers each day as he sits in class than the ignorance (or neglect, as his father calls it) of his mother.

Some of the children, like Penny, the daughter of the police chief, and their teacher are more polite to him, actually talking to him and making him feel more welcomed and involved.

When recess comes, he watches as Oliver is surrounded by boys, all who are trying to coax him into playing some sport, while his brother attempts to get to him. They meet each others gaze from the position that Cory is in – sitting underneath a tree, alone – before he just shrugs, giving Oliver the permission to go and play with his friends.

(At seven years old, he's already used to people leaving. That revelation alone is already too scary for him.)

…

When he dreams again, this time the woman appears in front of him, startling him at first, but slowly, as they both stare at each other, he begins to become a bit curious of her; her hair is no longer covering her face, but it's still in wild ringlets, it's length just underneath her shoulder.

She's dark-skinned, with almond-shaped eyes - probably biracial – and her hair is mostly red, but with splotches of dark brown mixed in. On top of all that, she has scars lathering her body and is almost the same height as her father.

Before he can open his mouth to ask her who she is and what she wants with him, the dream peels away, and he wakes up to his brother shaking him, shouting that it was time for school.

…

He's certain there's a word for whatever that woman is; he's heard it before on those spooky TV shows that his mother tells him will give him nightmares.

...

Two Saturdays go by, and his mother still will not take him to the grocery store.

Instead, his father takes him to the police station, where he gets to sit at his desk underneath the supervision of his fathers colleagues, and doodles on a notepad.

The first drawing he does is of his family – but, in the picture, his mother is separated from everyone else, her head turned away from the other three. Her stick figure hand is linked with Oliver's, and Oliver's is linked with Cory's. His father stands protectively behind Cory in the picture.

He stares at the drawing for a few, long minutes, before ripping it from the notepad and stuffing it in one of his pockets.

The drawing that he gives to his father is one of a rainbow, which the man puts on the side wall of his desk with pride.

…

When he goes to physical therapy on Sunday, Dr. Berry helps him learn how to move his tongue to the side in order to speak more coherently. It's a hard task, but by the end of the day, he already is able to make words longer and more clear, without that terrible spit noise at the end.

Before he gets into his fathers cop car, he wraps his arms around the doctor and buries his face into her stomach. She hugs him back, and tells him that he'll heal up in no time.

(He wants to believe that.)

…

He hears the word 'divorce' again, but this time it's said in a more angry tone.

After she screams out the word and the sentence it was contained in, his mother storms out of the house, and doesn't come back for two days.

...

It takes almost a month of his mother ignoring him at every turn for Cory to finally snap.

His mother had been coldly disregarding his appearance at every chance she got, spending more time out of the house and away from his father. He remembers his father sitting him down one day with Oliver, telling both of them in a soft tone that he didn't know whether or not he and mommy would be together anymore.

(It frightens him when he realizes how much he didn't care if they split up or not.)

But that one day, when he had successfully made his own lunch and proudly showed it to his mother, only for her to wave him off and continue to ramble on the phone, Cory decides that he's really had enough.

He's tired of her and everyone else looking at him with that strange, lingering stare that he hates so much. He's tired of everyone disregarding his presence and only seeing his jaw.

So, when he lays in bed, holding back tears – he's really getting way too good at that – he decides that he's going to do something about it.

…

He still hasn't look at his reflection.

Each time he's forced to brush his teeth or do something that requires standing in front of a mirror, he closes his eyes or averts his gaze to the counter.

The little glimpses of his jaw are enough to make him realize that he can't face knowing what he looks like to the world.

…

(_Please God let my parents stop fighting and make my mother love me again._)

…

That night, when he dreams of that house again, this time the woman actually speaks to him.

She looks at him for a few seconds, before straightening her spine, standing her full length, and looks Cory up and down with piercing yellow eyes.

"My name is Mary," she states, taking in a breath. Her eyes feel as if they're staring straight through him.

Cory gulps. "Uh- my names Cory," he tells her, awkwardly. His ears feel hot and he's extremely nervous, for some odd reason, but the woman only gives him a twisted, but somehow still warm, smile, and he can see that her teeth a yellowing. _Gross._

Mary just leans down onto his level, causing him to back up just a bit (just in case). The dark-skinned woman only searches his face, before shaking her head, tutting.

"It's sad," she begins, frowning and making the scar on her lip twist in an awkward angle. "That people only look at your face and see your jaw."

He blinks, startled, because _no one _has ever stated it before, but now that he hears someone saying it, regarding his mistreatment over the past month, he feels...better. Not totally, but enough for him to give the woman a crooked smile.

"Wha' do you want wit' me?" he asks, deciding to disregard the slur in his voice.

Mary narrows her gaze, making him squirm under how intense the stare is, how it burns through him and makes him feel a bit uncomfortable. "No child should have to suffer through what you have," she tells him, shaking her head in disgust. "It makes me sick that your own mother is treating you like this." She continues, looking just a bit more upset at the mention of his mother.

Cory averts his eyes away from her face, hoping to conceal the tears that are slowly pooling in the bottom of them. "It's 'kay."

"But I have a way to help you with her and everyone else," Mary says suddenly, causing Cory to snap his gaze back to her in disbelief. Taking his silence as a queue for her to continue, the woman just smiles, nodding. "All I need is for you to make me a promise, Cory. Just one little promise and everything will start to be better, okay?"

He nods, rapidly, and ignores the small pain that sparks in his jaw.

Her gaze hardens, and the woman leans a bit closer to him. "You need to promise me that you will be the best that you can be, no matter the cost. Do you understand?" she asks, and Cory doesn't even hesitate before saying _"Yes."_

…

His first grade year starts again when he's seven years-old, and he chooses to pretend like it doesn't bother him that everyone stares at him, once again, as if they've never seen anyone quite like him.

He finishes this year in silence, hardly speaking up in class unless it's required and keeping his head down, doing his work and passing easily.

(Because he already _knew _half of this stuff.)

...

He's eight when his parents finally divorce, and a huge 'custody battle' (or whatever that is) happens.

His mother moves out of the house and into some apartment, not too far away from his fathers home, but far enough her to have 'some space' as she calls it.

…

Mary comes into his dreams two days after his mother and father divorce, and he finally moves from his standing position, sitting down on one of the broken and ragged couches, and just shoves his face into his hands, ignoring his jaw again.

He feels her sit next to him, but neither of them say anything.

…

Dr. Berry tells him that it's okay for his parents to be in two different homes, that a lot of children have to face something like this.

(It doesn't make him feel better.)

...

Despite the fact that he made a promise to Mary, Cory still feels like he needs to do _something _to earn his mother's attention and love.

He sits down with Oliver one morning and watches _Home Alone, _and thinks that if this ten year-old kid could survive on his own, and defeat criminals just like his father did almost every day, he could too.

…

That night, he packs his backpack full of clothes and some snacks, walks to the front door, takes a deep breath, and walks out into the muggy night.

…

He walks down the street, following the pathway that his father took every day when he dropped him and Oliver off at school.

He gets to the place where the cars hook off and go into four different directions, racking his brain to see which way the school is (he wasn't going to go into a completely foreign area).

He takes a right down the road and begins his journey, hoping that what he's doing will make his mother proud of him, like she was of Oliver.

…

He walks until he sees golden and purple beginning to pop out against the sky, streaking their colors against the navy blue, and stops, taking a look around.

He doesn't recognize this place at all.

He's near the ocean, he thinks, but there's a highway in front of him, long grass and a few trees on the sides of it.

Down near the edge, a dot on the horizon, he thinks he can see a house.

…

When he gets up close to the house, where he can hear the screams of children, happy and loud, he walks just a little faster, hoping that he can find someone to ask for directions.

He gets up to the front of the house, takes a deep breath, and knocks on it twice.

The door opens to reveal a heavy-set, tan man with strange ginger hair, who looks down at him with startled green eyes.

"Hello," the man says, a little awkwardly because why would an eight year-old boy with a twisted jaw be this far from the city?

Cory clears his throat, and grabs the straps of his backpack, bringing it more securely on his back and fixing the man with what he thinks is a respectable stare.

"I need directions to the school," he starts, watching as the man's eyes flicker up and down at him.

"Which school?" he asks.

Cory blinks in shock – wasn't there only one school? His elementary school? Why would there be more schools than just one? There wasn't that many kids in his neighborhood.

He realizes that he's been standing there, mouth agape and looking shell-shocked, because the heavy set man just shakes his head, moving to the side and presenting the small home that he lived in.

"You should come inside – I can call your parents and we can get this sorted out."

_You should never trust a stranger _is what his father had always reminded he and Oliver, countless times, but Cory decides in this moment that he doesn't really care, and goes inside of the house.

…

When he goes inside, he's bombarded with four children, all dark-skinned, who hop around him with excited expressions, as if they've never seen someone quite like Cory before.

"Hi!" one of them, a small girl with dark gray hair, exclaims, jumping up to meet him. "I'm Piper!"

"I'm Sonny!" another one, another little girl with black hair, says.

"I'm Mickey!" A little boy this time.

The last child continues to sniffle and sneeze, so Cory can't really ask him what his name is, until the little girl named Piper supplies it.

"That's Matt," she tells him, looking at her brother with a small eye roll. "He's sick."

He just looks at the four children for a few minutes, before looking back and regarding the heavy man behind him again.

"Uncle Fletcher," Sonny says from behind him, startling Cory. "Can we take him outside to play?" she asks, smiling widely.

The man looks stumped for a moment, torn between helping this kid and letting his nieces and nephews have someone to play with, until Mickey takes his silence as an answer, pulling Cory outside with a broad smile.

"'Kay thanks!"

…

It's late in the morning when a woman, who looks a little similar to Fletcher, comes home in a car, the same height as his mother, but dark-skinned and definitely having a softer facial expression as she drops her work bag, opening her arms and letting her four children into her arms.

Cory trails behind them, hoping that now he can finally get his directions to his school, when the woman takes in his appearance, looking toward Fletcher, who now appears by the front of the car.

"Who's this?" she asks, looking down at Cory with curious but soft green eyes.

Fletcher frowns. "He's lost." He answers.

The woman's eyes widen, and before he knows it, he's being ushered inside, with a "Come on, honey, you look like you're starving!"

…

When it turns afternoon, and Cory is faced with this family, who has never once asked about his jaw, he decides that he begins to like them.

They are apparently not as rich as his parents, but they seem to make the best of it, falling into some routine that Cory likes to think he can be apart of.

"Can...can I stay here for a little bit? I don't want to go home just yet...," he starts.

They look a little apprehensive, but Missy and Fletcher let him stay.

…

When he falls asleep after a week of being in that home, with the adults of the house dropping subtle hints that he should tell them where he lives, he dreams of that house again.

Mary looks upset, her eyes blazing in anger as she takes in Cory's appearance.

"You need to go back home," she hisses with a clenched jaw, causing Cory to blink in surprise at how blunt she's become.

He frowns, shaking his head. "No. I like it there."

He wakes up after watching Mary turn, knocking over broken lamp and muttering something about "This isn't going right!"

…

After watching him try to eat a sandwich, Fletcher leans over and tells him to move his face to the side, to give the crooked side of his jaw more room to properly chew the food.

Eating is ten times easier, and Cory has never felt more accomplished before.

…

They watch television on Missy and Fletcher's little TV, which is notably smaller than his families.

It's almost just as fun than watching it with Oliver, because when he lets out cries of joy when the hero defeats the villain, no one tells him to shut up.

He likes the change.

…

He gets homesick at about a month with the family, but he forces it down because _at least Missy wants me around._

He's not sure his mother even notices he's gone.

…

"You have to go back," Mary begins, her eyes narrowed.

Cory just frowns. "I like it better here! They don't just look at my face with that _look _that everyone else does, and they're nice! I want to stay here."

She just shakes her head. "What about Oliver?" she asks, watching his gaze avert to the floor in a small flicker of sadness. "He misses you, you know. I know that you know he misses you. However much you're angry at your mother, you know you can't do this to Oliver."

When he wakes up, he realizes with shock that he's been crying.

…

When he tells the family, after a month and a half with them, that he wants to go back home, they look disappointed, but the adults tell him with a tight smile that they knew he needed to go back home soon. That he just had to want to go.

After he pulls in the children for a tight hug, he realizes that part of him really, _really _likes it here and would rather stay.

But for Oliver and his father, he thinks he can do it.

…

He points on out which neighborhood he lives in on a small map that Fletcher bought from a store, and the two of them peel away from the house, heading home.

He pushes down that feeling of guilt and sadness and focuses on what he'll tell his parents he was doing for a month and a half away from home.

…

When they pull up to his house, Fletcher and Cory share one last glance, before he tells him a soft goodbye and opens the door, stepping out of the car and closing the door behind him.

With probably no reason to stay, Fletcher drives off, disappearing behind the trees, and leaving Cory alone to face his family again.

He knocks on the door, and hopes that they're not too angry with him.

…

When the door opens, he's greeted with a yell of surprise and happiness, and a bone crushing hug from his father, who lifts him off of the ground and holds him there, burying his face into Cory's shoulder and murmuring how scared they all were.

Oliver practically bolts into him, knocking him on the ground and hugging him, jumping up and down and squealing how happy he was to see him again.

When he looks over Oliver's shoulder and sees his mother, sitting on the couch, gripping a cup of coffee, she only gives him a small nod and smile, before getting up and bringing the cup into the kitchen.

But he finds himself not minding too much, as he gets a giant group hug from both his father and brother.

At least he knows that he was missed.


End file.
